In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

In the previous chapter, we explored the life of Oliver Queen, a pampered scion of a wealthy family who found himself stranded on a desolate island for three long months due to unforeseen circumstances.

Generally speaking, such a scenario is highly improbable. The chances of drifting precisely to a deserted island in the vast ocean are exceedingly slim. Surviving in such harsh conditions without any survival knowledge or skills is nearly impossible for the average person.

However, Oliver, who would later become known as Green Arrow, possessed not only an exceptional level of determination but also a stroke of luck beyond the ordinary.

The spot where he was cast into the sea wasn't far from the island, and his years of physical conditioning ensured he had the strength to stay afloat and eventually make it to the island's shallow shores.

Yet, his misfortune continued as he arrived during the season of frequent tropical storms. The tempest sapped his strength, leaving him unable to maintain a consistent survival routine for an extended period.

Surviving on a deserted island is far from the simplicity depicted in survival games, where players can monitor their hunger and thirst through clearly displayed hunger and hydration bars. In the real world, such data is absent. Oliver, having just weathered the storm and expended a significant amount of energy, wrongly believed he still had plenty of strength. Consequently, he decided to ascend to the island's highest cliff edge, hoping to spot a passing ship.

However, the terrain proved much more treacherous than he anticipated, and he found himself ravenously hungry barely halfway there.

At this point, the most critical issue arose. While Oliver lacked wilderness survival experience, he did know better than to consume wild plants and fungi indiscriminately. Thus, the option of filling his belly with vegetation was closed off.

His only recourse was hunting for meat. In the tropical rainforest, there was an abundance of prey—birds in the sky, fish in the water, and turtles on the beach. The problem was that Oliver was ill-equipped to handle any of them barehanded.

However, due to his earlier misjudgment of his physical condition, by the time he realized he was hungry, he no longer had the strength for these tasks.

Most failures in wilderness survival occur for this very reason—human understanding of their own bodies is limited. Many anomalies go unnoticed until it's too late to rectify them.

Yet, Oliver's luck surpassed that of most. He stumbled upon a small stream where the pool at its base teemed with small fish, easily caught with minimal effort.

These fish were meager in size, but their abundance and ease of capture were advantageous. Moreover, since the storm had just passed, the fish had risen to the surface, making Oliver's task even simpler. He captured them, dispatched them, and devoured them without even taking the time to cook.

"To be honest, the taste wasn't as terrible as I had imagined," Oliver remarked as he roasted some food in the cave. "Perhaps it was because I had reached the brink of starvation, but I found them rather delectable."

"Speaking of which, among raw food options, fish is one of the better ones, especially when it's clean," Arthur added with a nod.

"However, you must be cautious of parasites. Those fish you mentioned are probably brackish water species, right? Parasites can be quite dangerous," Schiller cautioned.

Oliver shook his head and said, "Compared to starving, I was more afraid of that. These little fish kept me from starving for an extended period."

"What happened next?" Arthur inquired, his curiosity piqued. He had never heard such a Robinson Crusoe-like adventure before, making it all the more intriguing.

"After regaining my strength, I realized the next storm would not be far off, and I had to find a proper shelter instead of merely using those palm leaves as makeshift overhead protection."

"Did you stumble upon this cave?" Schiller asked.

"Yes, I felt lucky to have found this cave as a refuge. However, the challenge here is the lack of food, and the water source is quite distant. I have to craft tools to hunt or I'll starve," Oliver explained.

Arthur's gaze fell on the bow beside him. "Did you make this?"

Oliver sighed and replied, "I only vaguely remembered the shape of a bow and used palm tree fiber for the bowstring. The elasticity was inadequate, so the arrows didn't fly far. Additionally, because the arrows lacked feathers for balance, their accuracy was abysmal."

"Nevertheless, in the second month, I managed to hunt a wounded cormorant with this bow and had a satisfying meal."

"That one meal sustained me until now. After that, I could only subsist on small lizards or occasional discoveries of shells and hermit crabs. There aren't any large, meaty animals on this island, but if there were, I might not have survived."

"Have you considered fishing?" Schiller asked.

Oliver wore an embarrassed expression. "I know how to fish and have even been sea fishing, but..."

"I see," Arthur interrupted, a knowing expression on his face. "It's quite common. Many wealthy tourists who come to our region are like that—ignorant of various fishing rod brands, unable to distinguish different types of fishing line, and simply using whatever bait they're given. They sit there all day, and if they don't catch anything, they buy from others."

"Of course, I don't deny that some people genuinely enjoy fishing. I get along with them quite well. However, these affluent individuals often underestimate sea fishing. They never consider that the brands of fishing rods they use, the types of fishing lines, and the kinds of bait they employ are all results of accumulated experience."

"If I were to strand them on a deserted island, they probably wouldn't even be able to fashion a fishing rod, let alone make fishing line, find suitable bait, select the right fishing spot, and adjust their timing based on different types of rods and lines."

Oliver nodded in agreement and said, "I did try to make a fishing rod. Everyone knows that coastal fish are the best source of sustenance."

"However, there's no flexible wood suitable for making fishing rods here. Using fiber for the line was also highly ineffective. I tried using small fish from the stream as bait, but the fish never took the hook..." Oliver sighed, sharing his experience of failure.

"More importantly, fishing from the deck of a cruise ship is entirely different from doing it on a beach or from the rocks. Sometimes, it's hard for me to tell if the fish are biting. There's no tactile feedback," Oliver remarked.

Arthur's enthusiasm grew as he spoke about this part. "I believe you used the same material as your arrow shaft to make the fishing rod. It's likely some kind of plant stem, but it's too hard and brittle for making fishing rods. It works well for arrows, but it can easily break when used for fishing rods."

"Also, using fiber for fishing lines is entirely feasible. Nearshore fishing doesn't demand much from fishing lines. However, if you want to use less flexible fishing lines effectively, technique is crucial, and you must reel in promptly."

"As for bait, the small fish you mentioned would work, but using their innards might be even better..."

"Why not give it a try?" Schiller, turning his head to look outside, said, "The storm has subsided. It's time to explore."

The three of them walked out of the cave's entrance, only to find that the island's vegetation had been drastically altered by the storm. Arthur turned to Oliver and said, "You wait here for a moment, Professor Schiller, please take care of him. I'll go find some materials."

Since there were no large predatory animals on the island, and despite its limited resources, it wasn't excessively dangerous. Therefore, Arthur set off alone. He returned within half an hour, carrying a bunch of items.

Using the same material as his hat, palm frond strips, he fashioned a net bag that resembled a fishing net, but when held by its four corners, it could be used to carry things.

Inside were a sizable rock, a jumble of miscellaneous leaves, and some plant roots and stems. He also carried a long piece of slender wood on his shoulder.

Arthur placed these items on the ground and pointed to them, saying to the other two, "Professor Schiller, could you please process this rock? Make one half into a pot or bowl, and sharpen the other half for cutting fibers and wood."

Arthur noticed that Schiller had the skill to handle stones since he could excavate such a large piece of the rock wall. The rock was relatively flat, wide on top, bottom, left, and right, making it suitable for crafting a shallow pot, and its edges were perfect for use as an axe.

"Let's separate these leaves into strips and boil them in water, which we'll fetch from the stream later. Boiling the fibers will make them more resilient and durable, unlike the original leaves, which are quite brittle."

Arthur was quite knowledgeable in this area. "See this net here? Although I'm using it to carry things, it's actually a small hand-thrown fishing net made from boiled fibers. Fishermen use it to catch fish."

Arthur sat down to organize the leaves, saying, "I checked when I arrived, and there are plenty of fish nearby. Compared to a fishing rod, using a thrown net is quicker."

Schiller, observing Arthur's face, made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. After a while, Schiller lowered his head to work on the stone and said, "I take back what I said earlier. Maybe you don't have to try living in a big city after all."

Schiller sighed, thinking that perhaps his arrogance had led him to believe that the city was everything when, in fact, there were many unexplored places on this Earth, countless wilds and desolate islands.

In the city, he could leisurely enjoy his coffee, stand by a floor-to-ceiling window and watch the rain, even the bone-chilling Gotham rain, which would merely become a lullaby for him.

However, when he arrived on a deserted island with no human presence, the conditions for survival were no longer the complex knowledge of civilized society. Instead, it was the simple wisdom of fishermen that filled Arthur's mind.

Among these three individuals, it was the relatively inexperienced Arthur, who hadn't read many books and hadn't experienced life in a big city, who had the advantage in survival.

Soon, the sun broke through the thick clouds, and the plants, covered in droplets, once again stood tall.

Schiller thought that in a comic that primarily portrayed cities and people, few paid attention to the fact that these cities and people coexisted on this blue planet. Here, there was an incredibly vast world.

In a matter of minutes, the forest had returned to life, and compared to this sight, the various stories that unfolded in the dark city seemed like minor interludes in a grand performance.

Perhaps, a bat that had always dwelled in a cave and traveled far and wide for over a dozen years had never had the patience to immerse itself in the wilderness.

Thus, it could only listen to the interlude with a sideways glance, attempting to find artistry within the already uncomplicated melody, until it felt it could not make music alone, and the tune grew too isolated.

Thinking of this, Schiller suddenly smiled and said to Arthur, "You go ahead and work on this. I'm going to get some fresh air." With that, he left the cave.

Twenty minutes later, in the airspace above the deserted island, Schiller sat in the Bat Wing's cockpit and asked, "Which button is to shut down the engine?"

Beside him, Hal swallowed hard and said, "Are you sure you want to do this? If something goes wrong, I can't afford to compensate."

"No worries. Someone else can afford it."

With that, Schiller lifted a transparent plastic cover and firmly pressed the red button inside.

A few tens of seconds later, a violent tremor shook the cave. Arthur and Oliver turned abruptly, and the explosion's flames illuminated their shocked faces.

At the same time, in Wayne Manor, a voice filled with confusion sounded:

"Why did the plane crash?????"